I Did Not Hear the Bells
by Bright Anarchy
Summary: Lex Luther knows the first Robin's identity. Why, he'd saved the poor boy. Amazing grace how sweet the sound that found a wretch like me. I once was lost... and I think maybe I still am.
1. If I Ran the World

**One of the fundamental truths of crime is that evil without conscience is rare and generally exists only in the minds of the insane. This truth was a little harder to see for a Gotham crime fighter. Many of Gotham's criminals were insane.**

Batman's every muscle was tense as he explained Robin's (Tim's) discovery to the League. "Lex Luthor conspired against his criminal illuminati style organization otherwise known as the Light when Robin (Dick) was captured. He rescued him out of the hands of the likes of the Joker and teamed up with at least one other who could be convinced to be like minded."

Batman had worn himself out trying to solve this case over the years. Whatever had happened to Dick, it had been five years now. It was hard to imagine how finding him now would do anything but give a little empty closure but Batman would not let this go, ever. He owed Dick that much at least.

Luthor's thinking was self serving. The Joker and Gotham's other crazies had to be controlled and Batman was the best man for the job. Lex wanted a new world order but he had no interest in having madness at the foundation of his world order.

The second conspirator, the one Batman had yet to uncover was based out of Bludhaven, Gotham's nearest neighbour a detail Batman also had not yet discovered. Operating in proximity to Gotham, the second conspirator also had acted in self interest.

Gotham was like a disease held in check by a rare and expensive medicine. Destroying the boy might break the Bat. They didn't want to risk it. Clues were left that the boy was still alive but it wasn't like they just gave him back. At first Lex had just kept the boy on ice in cryogenics until the Bat started to get too close thanks to the information the new Robin had uncovered.

Superman went with Batman to confront Luthor. Superman and Lex had too much history for Superman to step aside and let Batman investigate solo.

"He was safe when last I saw him," Lex spoke smoothly. He'd known the Bat would figure out to come to him eventually. He was a little surprised it had taken this long.

"WHERE IS HE?!" demanded Batman.

"I don't know. Charity and good conscience inspired me to aid him when I saw he was in trouble but I am not foolish enough to anger the kind of enemies the Justice League seems to collect like postage stamps." Lex Luthor was always careful with his words. The Bat would use anything and everything in a court of law. Superman was just floating there looking self righteous. They had nothing solidly incriminating on him.

"I could only help so much." Lex eyed the new Robin. The third Robin if Lex was correct. He'd heard number two had been killed but the Bat hadn't bonded with the second Robin so strongly as with the first. It had still nearly destroyed the Bat when number two was killed which reinforced Lex's belief that he'd been right to interfere. This third one uncovered the trail that lead the Bat here. How bothersome.

"Luthor it's not like you to go against a child," scolded Superman.

Luthor of course orchestrated it so he now had no direct knowledge of what had finally become of the boy. The league had access to telepaths. "He was alive when I got him out of there. I don't have him. I saved the child. I'm no monster."

"Do you know how to find him?" demanded Batman.

"I am a very busy man of incredible resources. I am certain I could help you find him but there is an election underway and…"

Batman frowned listening to Luthor list off his multitude of charitable goodwill ventures that of course regrettably prevented him from devoting time to finding one lost boy when the world's greatest detective was already on the case. Helping would be a disservice to those others who so desperately needed help but had no one but Luthor to aid them. Lex fancied that he'd saved the poor boy on more than one level. Vigilantism was dangerous and illegal. He pointed out as much to Batman still looking pointedly at Robin 3.

Superman listened to Luthor's traitorous heartbeat and focusing on the man's breathing, trying to detect lies and misdirections.

Robin focused in on Luthor with every ounce of his training.

Luthor spoke no lies but he was, as always hiding the truth. Tim still feeling awkward in Robin's colours glanced over at Superman in frustration. He really wanted this to be his thing. Dick had been the first of any of the young heroes. His acrobatics were unmatched, as was his ability to make friends and inspire goodness. Jason had been tough. There was never a bully that cowed him and he stood up for the little guy no matter what it took. Tim wanted to be the detective that solved the unsolvable cold case. He wasn't as strong as Jason or as outgoing as Dick. Dick had been his babysitter when he was little sometimes. Tim remembered thinking he was great. Finding these clues had been what finally convinced Batman to take him on as Robin.

Though the Bat tapped lines and spied on Luthor and pressured him in every way he could think, it offered no further leads.

Tim, sent back to cool his heels at Mount Justice after a frustrating visit with Lex Luthor, shared what had been learned with the team and Red Arrow who had come specially to hear what had gone down as the situation with the first Robin hit close to home for him.

"He was quick to admit he had helped Robin escape from the Joker but he started misdirection when asked where Robin is now. I think he knows or knows how to find Robin but …" Tim spread his hands in frustration.

Red Arrow nodded gruffly and disappeared to investigate. If Luthor was involved and they hadn't killed Robin outright Red Arrow suspected what had happened to his donor Roy might have happened to Robin. He knew the old members of the Light wouldn't bother with cloning again now that their ruse with him and Roy had been uncovered. Roy was wrong thought Will. He wasn't just making this personal. No one knew more about Luthor's extensive network of secret facilities than Will otherwise known as Red Arrow, the clone of Roy Harper.

Red Arrow was retired and devoted to his daughter Liam but after finding Roy, this one last case still tugged at his heart strings.

Roy insisted Will was too out of shape to be of help. Will was determined.

Red Arrow and Arsenal would work together for this. No young hero deserved Lex Luthor.

Luthor had long ago unmasked Robin in private. Learning Robin was Richard Grayson was disappointing. It left him no closer to learning who Batman was. Robin was a small fish in a big pond. Lex had thought Batman was the boy's father and not just mentor but he'd seen Bruce Wayne and Batman in the same place before and besides Brucie could be a real airhead when he wasn't in the middle of a business deal. It surprised Lex not at all that Richard was Robin with his vacant foster father none the wiser. Maybe Batman had a circus connection or contacts in Juvie?

Lex had no interest in using physical coercion on a child. He turned to Genomorphs who said the boy's mind was too well guarded to steal League secrets and that fighting for the weak and strong morals was at the child's very core. Lex didn't have a problem with the concept of strong morals and fighting for the weak. Lex fought for the weak. So much of the world would be a better place if more people would follow my guidance thought Lex. The intelligence would have been nice but intelligence could be gathered from many other avenues. Most of the child's intelligence was likely tied up in Gotham's power struggles. Lex thought on a more global scale.

When it came time to defrost the Boy Wonder, Psimon was willing to be hired for the job. He left the boy's mind a complete devastation of proper names and recent memories. What was left was disordered, full of trivia but lacking in substance. Lex did not fancy himself a monster. The child would be able to function. He wouldn't be a gibbering idiot or any such thing.

No asset should be thrown away entirely. Lex was pleased to learn that his co-conspirator who would be relocating Lex's asset, did not recognize the young Mr. Grayson thanks to something as simple as a new close cropped buzz cut. Grayson had been out of the news for a little while now and that helped. Lex preferred being the sole proprietor to secrets.

What was done with Robin would have surprised Luthor. It was exactly what they had agreed upon though Luthor had strongly suspected Robin's disposal would have ended up being be more harsh. (Harsh was a good word. It covered a whole range of possible unkind outcomes. Lex had washed his hands of possible unkind outcomes.) Robin was treated compassionately but not left where the heroes were likely to find him.


	2. Be Thy Name

A United Nations Blue Beret explained the information that had been given to him, to the small monastery in Bludhaven attached to St. Eustace Church. "We believe he's 19 and a seminary student from the US. He went overseas for the summer to help dig wells and fight poverty in Lesser Bialya. He came down with a brain fever and had to be returned to America for medical care."

"Is he contagious? Was this Menengitis, Encephalitis? " interrupted the nurse. "The term brain fever is dated and non-specific."

The soldier checked the medical records huffing a little as the records weren't very useful. "The records are scribed in a little known Bialyan dialect but he had completed treatment. He's not contagious. Yeah,... The confirmation from our medic is on the special circumstances customs documentation. He is in the early stages of waking from a mild coma. There are some notes about blood work and certain drug markers indicating it may have been medically induced."

Sister Agnes took the medical records from the soldier with a glare only a disappointed nun could pull off.

The soldier shifted uncomfortably. "His full name and most of his records were lost when the Lesser Bialya monastery burned to the ground during a military insurgence. It is hoped that when the young man regains consciousness we can to confirm his history. He had a shirt from the local seminary and well, all evidence. We've done our best for him!"

The nurse/nun tutted in frustration. They weren't equipped for anything but basic care.

"He may have been from Gotham," suggested the minister, trying to be helpful and divert Sister Agnes from a full on rant. Without records the poor boy would have no insurance and medical care could become an issue. "The Joker blew up a few city blocks not long ago including one of the Gotham Archdiocese administrative buildings. Records were lost state side too."

"Yes, Father Sanderson we discovered that." The soldier shuffled through his documentation. "This is our best guess as to his identity. John Richards, age 19, soon starting his third year at the local college, precocious learner apparently. There will be someone from immigration stopping by once he's conscious; to help out with replacing some of his identification. We try our best to take care of our foreign aid workers in times of trouble."

"What church was sponsoring John?" asked the minister. Gotham was in worse shape that Lesser Bialya.

"That church based out of the Narrows that was condemned. When we contacted the Gotham Archdiocese they said to place him here."

Father Sanderson nodded. St. Mary's had been knocked down after Father Jeffrey died. It had been a waining community. There had been a number of shootings in the area and gangs problems. A serial killer acting in the neighbourhood had been the final straw. A woman was left dismembered on the altar. When, Father Jeffrey discovered her, the shock was too much for him. He had a massive coronary and died on the spot. With the Archdiocese already dealing with the problems created by the destruction of their largest administrative facility, they'd had no choice but to pick their battles and close the old church.

All that, would have all happened when John was overseas. Bludhaven was part of the Gotham Archdiocese and St. Eustace was St. Mary's closest neighbour with a mission attached. Bludhaven had problems too but Father Sanderson was thankful to be not to have to deal with the challenges of Arkham escapees after a mass breakout. The criminally insane terrifyingly unpredictable. He'd rather Bludhaven's mobsters, organized crime and corruption.

Richard woke in clean simple room on a low bed with a priest smiling at him. An IV was taped to his hand and oxygen was clipped under his nose. The room seemed familiar in a kind of dream like way. He'd probably be struggling towards consciousness for a little while now.

"Well young man. It's a pleasure to see your blue eyes open and staying open. We've been having a bit of trouble identifying you after the records were lost in the fire overseas. Can you confirm you name for me. I'm Father Sanderson. We've spoken a few times now. Can you say my name so I know you're all the way awake?"

This conversation again. Had he had this conversation before? "Father Sanderson were you here before?" What's your name was the most basic question out there. It felt like his brain was swimming through pudding trying to remember the answer. "...Richard?" he whispered.

The pastor looked at a file he was holding. "And you first name?" he prompted.

"I don't remember a fire… You said a fire?"

"You've been very ill. What do you remember?" Father Sanderson spoke gently.

"... a fish ... man reaching for me on water? That doesn't make sense." (The memory was Kaldur.)

"Jesus was a fisher of men. He walked on water," spoke Father Sanderson encouragingly this was the clearest conversation yet.

"The Gospel of Matthew," Richard filled in confused as to why this answer was easy to recall when his own name was muddy.

"Does the name John sound familiar?" prompted Father Sanderson after a while.

Richard nodded uncertainty clouding his expression.

"How old are you?" asked Father Sanderson.

"15?" asked Richard.

"Are you 15 or are you asking me if you're 15," came Father Sanderson's patient response.

"I can drive a car or motorcycle. I don't remember voting."

"You were likely overseas during the last election. You need to be 16 to drive a car," answered Father Sanderson sadly. The young man was very confused. "What year were you born," the Father tried, sometimes the same question asked in different ways led to the truth.

Richard's stammered answer made the Pastor sigh with satisfaction for it matched with 19 year old John Richards. It was disappointing the young man did not remember his exact birthday.

Richard or John was willing to suspect his name was John Richards and he was 19 and all of the other things they insisted he was. "I'm short. I think I have always been?" He commented to Father Sanderson as the kindly priest helped him to the washroom. The weakness in his limbs certainly suggested illness. "Was I helping people if I was overseas? I think I like to help."

Father Sanderson nodded encouraged.

Misinformation tauntingly close to the real identity of Richard John Grayson who was biologically 15 but actually 20, was close enough to feel familiar after Psimon's meddling. At 19 instead of 15, John Richards would be treated as an adult and not a child keeping him out of CPS records, high school records and other places he might be more visible. At 19 instead of 20 his age didn't quite match missing person searches. He looked a very young 19. The St. Eustace Mission had a small clinic that could medically support the young man and that kept him out of a hospital which would have easier to access public admission records.

John was soon well in body. He wasn't too long overcoming the de-cyronization sickness that had been labelled as a brain fever but his memories were confused and missing so many details. The clinic doctor said it could have been caused by the illness but it was also possible that the trauma of the fire and the fighting overseas could be preventing him from remembering things.

John, if encouraged could quote the bible and philosophize, read, write and he had no trouble with math so the plan was for him to keep going to school when the summer was over. The college had agreed to let him retake his last year in college to help rebuild his memories.

John had secretly tracked down some of his supposed classmates from the previous year. No one in his seminary classes recognized him. He'd been listed in their classes but there were only 39 people in the year. Why didn't they recognize him? He hadn't checked all of his old classmates. Maybe he was just having a bit of bad luck?

The guy at the coffee shop who always asked him if he wanted the usual said maybe it was because of the buzz cut he got for the overseas trip. His name was John and he was sort of ordinary. Maybe he blended into the background. "No offense intended man."

"...um" answered John running a hand over the peach fuzz on his head. "When I walk into a room, it feels like the world watches me." Were the two girls in the corner checking him out? John wondered why his usual drink was so bitter. He thought he might like to try his coffee with half milk and three sugar or maybe just have the hot chocolate?

"Sounds like you're shy?" offered the barista. "Are you the type to hide in shadows?"

"...yes but…" John wondered if his secret urge to dance to Beyonce or Bruno Mars, do backflips and generally show off was sacrilegious or irreverent in some way.

"I remember you," insisted the barista.

John thought the barista's tattoo looked familiar? His search for the familiar kept him returning to the coffee shop and drinking the coffee he hated. Apparently the ceramic mug on the bring your own mug rack was his?

"_**Through thorough thought I was taught tough to teach topics today."**_

He did like the mug. It was awesome.. no um.. coolsome? ... nah...funsome! The problem was there was often a slight lipstick stain on it as if some girl was using his mug too but not bothering to do a good job cleaning it. The first time he'd gone to the coffee shop after he'd been sick he hadn't remembered the wall of mugs belonged to the regulars or that the mug that caught his eye was his,... or at least the barista said it was?

So, John lived in the missionary. He helped with the soup kitchen. He taught one of the Sunday school groups. He was popular with the youth he taught. They told him he made bible stories exciting and they liked when he'd juggle. John took meals and books to the sick and elderly over at the housing projects or at Rabe Memorial Hospital.

He didn't tell Father Sanderson but when he was making deliveries, he'd parkour across the rooftops of the city. It just felt right.

In the early morning when John was up before prayers he'd practice katas. He must have taken some form of martial arts training at some point, and, and maybe some kind of gymnastics? Father Sanderson had, had to reteach John most of the morning prayers.

Zak one of the kids, wanted to know what to do about a bully. John knew the whole turn the other cheek thing was in the bible but the bible was a big book with other advice that might apply better. John was re-reading it.

"Zak, what's this person being doing specifically? The term bully covers a lot of different types of unkind behaviours."

"Steals my lunch then steps on it, shoves me every time we're going up the stairs so I face plant. He's always telling people lies about me to try and turn the other kids in my class against me too."

John wasn't sure who had taught him to hack into the school cameras right when class was letting in and Zak would be going up the stairs. He had no idea what to do with the footage proving the bullying nor any idea why he thought collecting the information in so unorthodox a manner might be helpful. He deleted the footage in frustration. He'd get kicked out of seminary school for being a weird creep if he tried to do anything with that footage.

John grinned for a moment when he thought to booby trap the lunch with expanding polymer. The bully's foot would get stuck to the sidewalk and again,... Not acceptable! This is a kid bully not a villain.

Frowning John called the school and talked to Zak's teacher. He also showed Zak a cool trick to fall safely downstairs like a stuntman. Hmmm…

Father Sanderson's when asked about the whole turn the other cheek concept and how it might apply to a school bully answered that Jesus wasn't encouraging anyone to let themselves get beat up. He gave John a bunch of readings to help further explain Jesus's teachings.

One of the quotes written in Latin, John could almost remember a soft deep voice reciting to him and a young voice answering " ...so the person who gets upset is giving away their power and control? I bet I could really annoy some bad guys." What a strange memory.

Zak seemed happier so there was one muddle navigated. Sometimes John felt like a stranger in his own skin and simple everyday things seemed complicated. He felt like a child wearing grown up shoes sometimes.

Bludhaven was a rough city. When some punks broke into the sanctuary for a little petty thievery John chased them three blocks in a stunning display of ariel parkour then crazy kung-fu judo kicked an orange crate while intimidating them into giving the stuff back. John confused at his own instinctual reaction shuffled back to the church to return the goods.

Brother Kick-Ass is definitely not appropriate, he thought to himself, frowning at even the internal swearing. Al'd wash my mouth out with soap if he heard that aloud.

Al must have been an important figure growing up. John knew he'd known an Al but the name wasn't quite right and he didn't have a face to go with the name. He'd been through the records locally and in Gotham. There was a Bishop Aloysius and Father Alexander. Neither looked familiar though.

**Blast it all I spent hours editing this and it posted without the edits saved! GRRR! I'll have to check it again later.**


	3. Frater John

A month after Robin's (Tim's) discoveries confirming Luthor's involvement, Red Arrow, Arsenal and Green Arrow approached Batman with evidence indicating Robin (Dick) had been cryogenically frozen at one point and revived a few months ago. They'd lost the trail after Robin was taken out of the cryogenics facility.

Dinah who had been baby sitting Liam, was probably the biggest single contributor to the success of the mission of the Arrow men. They didn't kill each other. They kind of, sort of worked together. They could not have done that without help. Dinah confided to Wonder Woman that the entire event was huge progress for her dysfunctional family. She just hoped it wouldn't always take such an extreme an event to get them together and acting mostly civil towards each other. She was hoping maybe Thanksgiving. There was too much pressure involved in Christmas but was one meal too much to ask?

"Thanksgiving is more than half a year away." commented Diana.

"You think it might be too soon?" asked Dinah with a wry grin; then she tickled Liam's tummy.

"So we know we're looking for a 15 year old. We also know they haven't spent this whole time torturing and brainwashing him," spoke Robin (Tim) in a tentative voice.

Batman swept brusquely away from Roy, Will and Oliver. He had new data to analysis, new leads to scrutinize.

"Thank you!" called Robin grinning and running to catch up with his mentor.

"Sometimes that Bat is worse than you Oliver," snarked Red Arrow at Batman's rude exit.

"Hey, we are trying to be nice here," roared Green Arrow indignant.

"Whatever!" growled Arsenal. "I'm starved I'm headed to Big Belly."

"Roy you told Dinah you'd stop by the house for dinner! Roy look at me when I'm talking to you!"

"I going for beer losers..." Red Arrow tossed Ollie his bow dismissively then peeled off his mask. "I'll be back later for Liam. Don't wait up grandpa."

"We'll find Rob, Will!" called Oliver encouragingly. "Luthor won't get away with this!"

"...#%$ Luthor..."

Oliver grabbed Roy by the collar as the younger hero tried to follow after Will. "NOT 21! Stick to the burgers Roy."

Jason was hell bent on taking down the Bludhaven drug lords. He'd torture or kill to end them. He not only knew he was already going to hell, he was pretty sure it was his current place of residence. Either way, vigilantism didn't always pay well and sometimes the Mission's soup kitchen was the only guarantee of a meal.

Frator John as people called him, caught Jason's eye. Unable to place exactly where he knew the face and worried the guy might have shifty connections, as shifty was what Jason had been immersing himself in lately, Jason went to a mass or two and started watching the guy.

The guy wore the robes of a cleric in church and participated in every mass except the main Sunday one. He wasn't the sermon guy though. He lived in the mission. Further investigation proved that no, he wasn't using the cover of the Sunday service to deal drugs, he was teaching kids Sunday school.

Jason couldn't kick the feeling that he should know the guy. Maybe he was someone from Batman's old files? Jason didn't think he'd ever met this John guy in person. He was too young to have been in Blackgate but maybe he was out of juvie? I found religion was an old standard to earn early parole.

The more Jason investigated the more suspicious he became. The amnesiac overseas missionary bit sounded phoney. Jason saw the parkour route the guy set off on one night. He wasn't delivering street drugs or guns though. He was taking home cooked meals, live saving medications and library books to shut ins. Hmmm…

As soon as the guys hands were free, didn't he wave Jason over with a big smile. How'd the guy even spot me? I've hid from the Flash, Green Arrow and even Superman.

"Do you like roof running too? I couldn't do it wearing a motorcycle helmet like that. It would mess up my balance. Jason isn't it? I saw you in church the other day and at the soup kitchen. Want to come with? I don't have the mountain climbing rope launching thing like you do but I like to think I'll do fine. The name's John. Nice to meet you."

How the frick did he know my name? Is he just guessing? I thought I told them at the soup kitchen my name was Riley.

"I know we haven't been introduced. Your name was written in your jacket. I hung it up for you. You're the same size, same build, wearing the same gloves and I think those boots are custom. They're expensive. I wondered at first what you were doing at a soup kitchen but I figured sometimes even in hard times we hold on to the things where we can. My brain likes to pick at details sometimes and my memory is really good, except for when it isn't. I don't know where I got that Sherlock nonsense from. Sorry. It wigs people out sometimes."

"Hey," spoke Jason at last thinking, this guy rambles on nonstop. What a motor mouth. Jason not knowing what to do, joined John on his parkour adventure.

The flips, the stunts, the death defying craziness was almost impossible to keep up with and Jason had trained with Batman and Jason had a grapple gun which he was ashamed to admit he needed to keep up with the wanna-be-priest?

"Were you a cat-burglar marathonist in a past life?" asked Jason panting and sitting down beside John. He couldn't get enough air in the stupid helmet but left it on because the vigilante mask underneath couldn't be mistaken for safety equipment like this strange idiot had done with his helmet.

John shrugged grinning cheerfully and breathing heavily himself. He flopped back looking up at the moon. They may or may not have gotten a tad competitive chasing across Bludhaven. "It's calming when the wind rushes past me and I'm flying through the air."

"Calming. That's the word you're going for? Not exhilarating, not terrifying, it's calming."

"I think I was made to move like that."

"Freak show."

John laughed. "Maybe I am."

"Whatever."

"Hey Jason?"

"What?"

"Maybe next time you come to church you could leave the guns behind."

"Thou shalt not kill and all that?" questioned Jason who a little embarrassed zipped his coat up, further hiding the already concealed weapons.

"It's just, there's talk in the Diocese of going so far as to put metal detectors in certain spaces. I don't feel comfortable going that far. Churches are supposed to be about faith. Faith in God and in each other. I know guns make some people feel more secure but they scare even more people. I have this memory and it's probably from when I was overseas but it's of a church with armed guards and it feels wrong."

"I'm not much on religion John. I don't usually go to church."

"Part of the problem is, okay, you get the metal detector and someone's carrying. What about escalation?"

"You think guns escalate things."

"I think fear does. Guns and fear go hand in hand."

'Yeah, maybe," conceded Jason. Jason was frankly still not in his right head about his own past so he added. "So what do you think about Batman then."

"Don't know. I have an image of Batman in my head but he was wearing grey and I'm told he wears black now so it must have been from when I was younger. I think at one point in time he saved me or something. I wasn't afraid of him but I hear a lot of people are. I don't know how much you know about me but I'm an amnesiac. A lot of my long term memories are fragmented or fried."

"So you don't even remember what he saved you from?" At least Batman didn't go on a pedestal. Jason would have lost it.

"I don't even remember my own parents. Actually that's probably not true. There are a lot of nameless faces floating around in my head but I don't know which ones were my parents."

"Do things ever just suddenly come back to you?"

"Elinore. I loved Elinore."

"Old girlfriend?"

"Dunno."

"You should befriend a police sketch artist and have them do some sketches for you."

"So I can find all my family members with criminal records?"

"Point taken. So people call you Frator John. Is that like Brother John."

"Nah, I'm still a lay person. A Brother has taken vows but I'm in training. Everyone knows I'm in training though so they insist on something more formal than just John. Frator is a generic term for a seminarian."

"Seminarian is a guy in priest school. I'll call you Just John if you like or would you prefer J.J." Jason tried to tease. He wasn't used to people talking to him like a person. He felt cringey at his J. J. thing and regretted it the moment it was out of his mouth.

"Suit yourself," returned John with a friendly grin.

"Just John you're kind of depressing. I offer pictures of your loved ones and you automatically go to mugshots and criminal records?"

"You want me to start singing Disney tunes? I'll do it. What's your poison, 'The Bear Necessities' or 'Let it Go'?"

"Oh please no!" Jason groaned and pushed himself to his feet. "I'm outta here." Jason grappled off into the night. He wasn't finished with Just John.

**I wonder a little just what Jason would think if he knew exactly who or rather what the name Elinore was attached to.**


	4. Broken

**This chapter is darker than my usual in parts and contains a swear word and implied swearing. I can't picture Jason without a potty mouth honestly. Please review. It makes me happy when people review.**

Jason watched.

The Frator often fraternized with the druggies, street women, bums and gangsters. Jason frowned because he couldn't tell from a distance the difference between ministry and shady dealings.

The barista John would chat with, had a tattoo affiliating him with one of the gangs run by the new mob boss who seemed to be swallowing control of Bludhaven's criminal underworld. Luthor corp weapons had started to seed themselves through the cesspool of a city. Jason had been looking for the boss's name but things were still hush hush. This new boss wasn't ready to declare himself yet.

The wanna be priest carried Narcan and he'd saved a junkie or two. He also carried free condoms and feminine products for the street people. ...And subway tokens, and sometimes extra sandwiches and prayer cards. Jason had been through his stuff on more than one occasion.

Just John often caught him spying and waved him over with that stupid friendly smile plastered on his face. The guy almost never had money but he usually carried a thermos of hot chocolate he'd share with Jason. He was kind of over the top goodie two shoes but Jason couldn't help but feel drawn to him. He wanted the goodness to be real but it didn't mesh with what Jason had seen of the guy's skill set.

Jason had caught a glimpse of John's early morning martial art exercises. When John was spotted he had stopped and looked hell-of-a nervous for some reason. Some of the things Jason found out were much more innocent.

"You into Pokemon?" Jason asked in disbelief the last time John caught him poking through his things.

"I can sing the entire theme song but I can't tell you where I went to primary school. I have stacks of them from the New 2 U store. The owner sells me the junk cards for next to nothing. I give them to kids when I catch them doing good deeds. They're better than band aids at stopping tears too."

The mystery of Just John in part had to do with… Jason huffed in frustration. The guy's answers were so often phrased in the form of a question he could have named himself Alex Trebek. If the guy really did have amnesia, the holes in his memory were so assinely random.

"Would you like ketchup on your burger."

"Yes?"

Jason rolled his eyes in utter frustration.

Or.. "So do you remember random crap too like, I don't know like Shakesphere from high school?"

Then the guy proceeded to recite an entire speech from Hamlet but with that same blinking question mark at the end.

Then there was the entirely memorable, "You realized Jush John half the teenage girls in the pews are checking out your ass when you do collection?"

"They are?"

"You bloody moron that wasn't an invitation to check yourself out! Just stop. You're embarrassing me."

"I have a fine caboose?" John twisted to look, grinning appreciatively.

"I am not answering that!" Jason had snarked swatting Just John upside the head. "It is so unfair that they're into you. I mean come on! Doesn't the whole seminary thing end with no chicks vows?"

"Does it?"

"Are you joshing me?"

"Am I?"

Jason had tried to punch him in the nose at the last quipp. John had literally back flipped over him, given him a cheeky wink, waved at one of the girls, then proceeded to look painfully confused and embarrassed.

"You know no one can make you take vows don't you?" Jason had asked in private when the day of teasing had seemed to sour.

"It's not the girl thing Jay and anyway they wouldn't ordain me or let me take vows without some serious introspection which I'm not really capable of in my airhead state."

"You're not an airhead, you brain damaged moron." Jason was not 'all that' in the inspiring comforting talks department. Jason found himself trusting the moron despite his reservations and he really didn't like it.

"Maybe it gets better?" John had pathetically pleaded letting a little of the lost empty loneliness of not knowing his past leak through the barriers of the brave determinedly friendly facade.

Jason grunted a weak, "yeah," his thoughts drabbling off: to waking screaming night after night, to sleeping with a nightlight or not at all, to wanting to gouge the eyes out of the statue of Mother Mary in the courtyard because the entire concept of the lie of perfect loving motherhood made him so angry that he'd flashback to the smell of the miasma of Ra's pit.

A snippet of the lyrics to that Lovelytheband song went through Jason's head. "I like that you're broken, broken like me. Maybe that makes me a fool."

Jason knew what image he himself portrayed. Ignoring that John seemed to be living in a media vacuum and hadn't heard the description of Red Hood with the trademark red motorcycle helmet, leather jacket and such, Jason knew he radiated a kind of "I'm bad news," vibe that Just John seemed oblivious towards.

Was the obliviousness an act too? While they were out roof running Jason led John somewhere the guy would get a full view of a dealer hawking his wears. He wanted to see what the guy would do.

John plunked himself down on the rooftop staring unabashedly until the dealer's attention shifted towards him and then he started crooning Danny Boy embarrassingly loud until people were sticking their heads out of windows and coming round to see what the disturbance was.

The dealer flicked him a rude gesture and left.

Jason's eyebrows rose. "Just John? You know he was like this far from putting a bullet in that pie hole a yours."

John shrugged giving Jason a cocky grin.

"How did that even solve anything? He's just going to sell his poison on some other street corner," snarked Jay giving John an annoyed shove.

John sighed patiently. "Jason if you were looking for me to call down blue bolts of lightening from heaven I think you're a little confused. Bad stuff, bad choices, nastiness, it's out there. I know that. You know that. I don't have a magic wand or super powers."

"What would Jesus do?!" snarked Jason angrily.

"Uhh... Good question," agreed John with an amicable smile. "Doubt it would be singing at them till he annoyed them into going away."

"You're a complete and utter doofus whose going to end up dead and make everybody sad and shit!"

"Sorry if I'm not uber smart and all knowing. Drugs, gangs, mobs, just general evil won't evaporate if I just want it too badly enough. I guess umm... Jesus was a teacher? Uh..."

"Don't taunt the scumbags!" Jason swatted John once more for good measure. What the heck had he been thinking? He certainly hadn't been expecting John to get his Kumby-ya-ya's on. Idiot. "This little light of mine!" taunted Jason. "Shut the $%# up! Moron!"

Trying to delve into the mystery that was John, Jason snuck into the church records and pulled what little they had. There was a note in there about the doc thinking the amnesia might be well, hysterical... enough bad stuff happened and John's brain just went on vacation because he couldn't handle it. The Saint Mary's Serial killer and the old priest who may well have been some kind of father figure, burning churches, war and stuff, then getting real sick with a high fever. Bad stuff, more bad stuff, more bad stuff. Focusing on the horror was not something Jason was capable of yet. Like red mist rising Jason lost himself. Some time in the early morning Jason came back to himself starring at a creep with a bullet in his head and himself holding a smoking gun. Around him the evidence of the sicko's warped mind was plastered on the walls of the damp smelly basement apartment. Photos, pickled body parts, detailed plans. Welp, one less serial killer...

It felt...

Jason ran. He couldn't breath and still he ran.

The Joker's mad cackle was chasing him. Harley blew him a kiss and called him Sweetie-pie.


	5. Stormy

**If you were born a prince does that mean that's who you are? How much of who we are is because we choose to believe what other people expect from us?**

Jason woke up early and took the longest shower he'd ever taken in his life, spent way too long brushing his hair, put on his only white collared shirt. He left his gun locked in his flat and went to help Just John with Sunday School.

"What's wrong," John asked the moment the kids left. "Oh and I have to tell you if you're going to be a regular with the kids, they ask for a police record check. There's an application in the church office."

Jason nodded at the record check thing. "I can't do this regular like anyway," protested Jason. He followed John to the fellowship room where coffee, tea and cookies were being served.

"So what's wrong," repeated John.

"Tell me about the ten commandments," Jason spoke softly.

John raised an eyebrow in question.

Jason just shrugged dismissively.

"Well Moses led this huge mob of people into the desert and they weren't used to being self ruled so anarchy was creating all kinds of problems. They asked God for guidance. God gives them what they asked for; guidance. He made laws for the lawless. Moses came back to the people and he was filled with the glory of God and there are his people behaving like lunatics. They'd made gold cows to worship, they were having this violent drunken debauchery party taking what they wanted from anyone and everyone. Moses lost it and throws down the tablets he and God just made and freaks out. They knew better. There was no excuse for what was going on but now he has to go back to God and ask for new tablets. Moses got in trouble for that. A tablet smashing temper tantrum wasn't really any way to behave especially if you wanted people to look to you for leadership. The ten laws were all about how to live together in maximum happiness."

"Maximum happiness sounds good," offered Jason tiredly starring not at John but at a tiny cordite burn on his own hand.

"Well the first four laws are about loving, respecting and honouring God. After that there's respect mom and dad too, don't murder, don't sleep with other people's spouses, don't steal, don't tell lies about others and don't be worry so much about what other people have."

"You over simplified that."

"Yeah well it turns out we as people weren't so good at even those few laws so when Jesus came along he tried to make it even simpler for us. You've heard of the Golden rule?"

"The Do Unto Others one?"

"Yeah. That's the simplified version of sin but Jesus was also all about okay that happened but I still want the world to be happier so let's talk about forgiveness."

If I was a serial killer and I had an ounce of good left I'd want to be stopped thought Jason but the thousand mile stare on his face had to do with the realization that though the people he was killing were bad, he kind of was a serial killer? Serial ment doing something again and again.

"Where does that put the people who are so messed up, their do unto ain't in line with anyone else's?"

"Pray for them, teach them or guide them if you can or find someone who knows how to do those things. Do you know the one about the guy who was supposedly swallowed by a whale? I gotta warn you, I don't think the bible is always exactly literal. Though it's a written text now, it was an oral tradition for a long time and you know what they say about fishermen and how big was that fish stories."

"Jonah," chuckled Jason familiar with the story and very familiar with the bigger fish effect. "Yeah so what about the guy that got fish kisses from some minnow."

"God sent Jonah to the worst place on earth where people were horrible, just horrible."

"Kind of like an old time Gotham," muttered Jason who'd heard the story but wanted to know where this was going.

"Mmm hmm, told him to teach them God's word to warn them that God was getting ticked off and bad stuff was about to go down if they didn't straighten up."

"Did they straighten up?" Jason asked letting John lead him through the old bible story. Jason took a cup of tea from one of the church grannies. The cookies out in the fellowship room looked kind of questionable. Jason sighed. Just listening to John was calming.

"Yeah. Jonah didn't think they could really change. He kept trying to run away because he didn't want anything to do with Nineveh but every time he stopped listening to God who really wanted him to head there, bad stuff happened. There were terrible storms at sea and he had a run in with a whale. Eventually he went to Nineveh. People straightened up. The whole concept was, God knows what he's doing and when we listen good stuff happens. Jonah didn't believe it could really truly work. He spent the rest of his life watching that place, waiting for people to fall back to their evil ways and waiting for the end of days. He made himself miserable because he couldn't have faith."

"I think Gotham, Bludhaven, well we ain't got no Jonah, reluctant or not. Batman ain't no Jonah."

"I didn't say he was," answered John. "Hauling someone off to jail isn't the same as inspiring someone to be a better person. Historically there have not been a lot of Jonah's and it's kind of sad to think that there was this one guy with an incredible talent for inspiring people and helping them change and he didn't have enough confidence in his own gifts not to make himself sick expecting himself to fail."

"Ain't no one inspiring the Joker to sunshine and rainbows and there are a lot that I can't imagine ever really changing."

"Nobody said there was no such thing as evil. Remember the goal?" tried John.

"What goal?" asked Jason. He was listening he was just kind of preoccupied by his own inner demons.

"Maximum happiness. It's not just about other people. It's about you too."

Jason pulled out a newspaper. "Have you seen this?" He asked showing an article about the serial killer being found dead with enough evidence to prove what he'd been up to gift wrapped with him.

John read the article.

"You glad he's off the streets?" asked Jason.

"Lotta killing in Bludhaven and Gotham both," answered John staring at the paper. "I wonder if this means the police will come after the victim's friends and family looking for who did it? People tell me I probably knew Father Jeffrey. They say that was probably my church. Jay, I didn't have anything to do with this. I know I was supposed to be in bed and I kind of might have been down by the docks watching the ships come and go from up top the abandoned lighthouse so I know I don't have an alibi or anything."

"What were you doing up there?" asked Jason exasperated. Stupid religious guilt complex had his idiot friend thinking he was accusing him or something. Jason didn't really believe John was some kind of criminal in hiding anymore. There was just something so exasperatingly kind about John. It made Jason feel all weirdly protective and stuff. It made Jason want to be a better person. John's my freak'n Jonah realized Jason with a growl of frustration.

"I get insomnia something fierce," admitted John.

"Only an idiot would think you killed him," huffed Jason. "I just thought knowing Father Jeffery's killer was dead might be important to you."

Jason was furious when sure enough the mysterious Frator John ended up taken down to the station for questioning. Jason needed to start leaving calling cards or something.

The police thought the amnesiac priest gig was fishy too. They held Just John for questioning and then clues started popping up and John ended up charged.

Jason was livid. He'd given John his old shoes because slippery soled shoe leather oxfords might look great in church but they are a complete hazard when you regularly parkour across the city at night. He was bigger than John but John always carried that stupid ministry backpack making deliveries. Still it was a flimsy bunch of clues. Sure John had motive but the dumb ass, lost, brain damaged, choir boy wanna be was good as gold...

Jason had a flashback of yelling at Bruce that he was sorry he wasn't cut out of the same mold as the freaking golden boy.

.

..

No…

Batman's lecture voice droning heavily through his reluctant memory. "Jason you have to look at the facial features and the body type because hairstyles are easily changed."

Jason was not convinced he was right. He couldn't be right. He headed to the public library and pulled up some of the last public photos of Richard John Grayson. It had been years and the guy didn't look like he'd aged a day. The biggest difference in the pictures was John's eyes always looked a little sad, a little lost but there couldn't be two different people so alike.

Some swearing may or may not have been involved as Jason stared at the old media footage. He may or may not have had to vacate the library in a hurry after putting several over emotional bullet holes into the public use computer.

Tim, working on the Batcomputer was closing out old files. The Saint Mary's serial killer had been an open case but Batman had said they didn't have time to search out the killer's killer. Bruce was so wrapped up researching Lex Luthor's cryogenics facilities that he didn't intend to chase after a hit that was likely carried out by the Falcones. The Italian mobster family was very religious and took offense when their church was interfered with. Bruce said the police already had someone in custody so he was staying out of it.

John was remanded to Arkham Asylum. The amnesiac thing was used to leverage him into the Asylum under a non-competency bid. No one had talked to him, not lawyers, nor a psychiatrist. Someone had wanted him swept under the rug real quick.

The strip search and body cavity search and supervised chemical wash down were humiliating. The determinedly friendly smile was on vacation replaced by a wary haunted look. John was locked in a solitary cell with a thin foam mattress on the floor as his bed. No pillow or blanket was provided and his clothes were institutional bleach white scrubs with socks but no shoes. One wall was heavy duty Lexan to ensure complete supervision, but he couldn't see the other inmates or patients from his vantage point.

As a murderer, well Arkham assumed guilty until proven innocent so apparently he was a murderer, anyway …. As a murder he was in high security lock up.

John though suspicious of his circumstances at the mission before was now certain his past not a simple as it sounded and there was something criminal going on. Someone wanted him gotten rid of but still at hand.

Father Sanderson came to visit him. He didn't seem to know what to say but he was distressed.

John sighed and speaking very softly so as not to be overheard said. "Father, I am here without trial, without psychiatric evaluation or anything. Pray for me but stay away. Something terrifying is going on and I don't want you hurt. I don't want the church made a target."

Father Sanderson cried silent tears. He'd lived in Bludhaven all his life. He knew there were times when the only safe thing to do was walk in the other direction. "You're a good man John. Don't let anyone convince you otherwise. I will always believe that you are one of the ones on God's side."

They spoke some prayers together then Father Sanderson said something grimly worrying. "It never even hit the news about your supposed involvement. The parishioners have been asking about you. I've told them you've gone to see special doctors which is true but not the whole truth. Usually even the hint of wrongdoing from someone that is part of the church like you and we'd be dodging fire and brimstone from the media. I think that concerns me most, because of the implications of it all."

John thought about that in silence when he was taken back to his "hospital" room or cell. If he could find a way to get his photo in the newspaper it would be interesting to see what crawled out of the woodwork. Is John even my name, he wondered? Am I some kind of criminal?

Jason with both guns loaded and his red helmet on rifled through the monastery files. He ransacked John's room. He may or may not have shoved a 45 up Father Sanderson's left nostril and demanded. "WHERE IS HE?!"

The poor priest just started babbling prayers.

Eventually Red Hood stormed off into the night.

Father Sanderson sat with Sister Agnes, his hands still shaking.

"We should call the police," encouraged Sister Agnes.

Father Sanderson shook his head thinking of the Blue Beret that had dropped John off. Whatever was happening had involved people in powerful places. "We should pray. For John, for the parishioners and for ourselves. This is like a storm washing over us. I didn't tell that gun-toting madmen where John was. I'm not inviting the police back in here, not after what's become of our John so silently and quickly."

**Review please. I haven't decided yet what Jason will do or what will happen in Arkham. Have your say.**


	6. I Hate First Days

The jolt of a shock baton burned through John. He woke with an involuntary scream. Though John's first instinct on the cattle prod style wake up was to throttle whomever had just done that, he shuddered, tried to untense his muscles and forced himself to assess the situation while his heart jack-rabbited painfully.

A terrified looking female intern half his size had a breakfast tray in one hand and the shock baton in the other. Oh right, his sleep addled brain thought reorienting him, Arkham Asylum.

"Miss Arrnell?" John spoke through clenched teeth. The poor girl looked terrified that he'd spoken her name. John knew the moment he spoke what her newest trauma was; how'd the crazy man know my name? "Name tag," John indicated with a nod. He waited for acknowledgement.

"Don't hurt me!"

John put out his hands in a calming gesture, then crossed himself and sent a silent prayer for patience skyward. After a few calming breaths he tried again in a gentler tone. "Is this your first day?"

The poor girl had obviously been set up to try and trap him. If he had lashed out, which most people would have done, it would have been taken as proof of his murderous nature.

A long pause was broken with a timid, "...no."

It was definitely her first day. "I see. I would recommend against using the shock baton to wake someone. It is unpleasant and painful." John stood, being careful not to make any sudden moves.

"You're covered in pee. Keep back! I'm armed!" she cried out sounding equal parts disgusted and terrified.

Slowly John spelled it out for her. "A shock baton causes a big muscle spasm. I was last taken to relieve myself before lights out last night." He waited for her to fill in the blanks. Nothing good could be accomplished waking someone like that.

The intern continued to wave the baton around in a threatening manner. She was clearly scared out of her mind of the dangerous crazy murderer she had to tend to.

"Waking with a jolt of adrenaline," continued John trying the good old information sharing voice this time, "it's one of those prehistoric fight or flight responses. There's a good chance someone woken violently will lash out before he or she is even fully awake?"

The intern nodded tentatively.

"Almost any animal will bite or at least try to, if you hurt it?"

Another nod.

"Does shocking a calm sleeping person seem like it might be a bad idea?" asked John.

The intern started to cry but she nodded.

John figured he'd made his point. "Please I need …

"A shower?" She stuttered.

John nodded. "And new clothes and the room…" He gestured uncomfortably to his mattress and the slowly spreading puddle leaking off it. The vinyl coated institutional foam mattress would survive with a good wiping down but the cover needed a wash. "You can put the food down, I'll eat after I'm clean, thank you."

The intern left the food and fled from the monstrous crazy murderer.

He waited for a ridiculously long time before someone came to escort him to shower. John wondered if hazing new interns with bad advice and scary stories was normal or something they'd arranged just for him. Some people were so cruel.

Breakfast was removed from his room before he returned but at least the room smelled of disinfectant which was a step up from urine.

"So," thought John, "notes to self: eat food when it's provided or not at all, expect all washroom privileges to be slow so don't drink the coffee, lay off the fruit juice and ask to go if you are even thinking you might need to go soon, and sleep with one eye open. Fun first morning."

With nothing else to do he knelt and spent a while in prayer and meditation. They had let him keep his small wooden cross strung on a braided silk string.

He was taken for his first visit with a shrink just before lunch by a large male intern who seemed offended by the whole concept of prayer.

John had wondered if there would be a shrink involved at some point. Arkham was supposed to be an asylum. Since they were going through the motions of him actually being a patient needing treatment. It gave him hope. Perhaps someone would listen if he told them his side of the story? Perhaps someone would notice he wasn't really crazy?

"What did you do to that poor little nurse?! She was crying! What did you say to her?" demanded the doctor in a transparent bid to reinforce John's place in the institution.

"There is a camera in my room. The little red light blinked all night long," answered John with a raised eyebrow and an exasperated tone. This jerk knew exactly what had happened. There is a good chance he'd orchestrated it. Okay so this guy was not likely to be open to the concept of John's innocence.

"Have you got something to hide? The camera is for your safety and ours," responded the doctor in a challenging tone.

"I expect all new guests here are watched," dismissed John. He was weary with being baited. He stood, leaned forward and tapped the display on the good doc's computer that showed a familiar room.

John noticed the doctor had removed his name badge and placed it face down on the desk. He wondered if the man had been wearing a lab coat before and had just not re-attached the badge or if the man didn't want his name known. John's escort had introduced the man as just "The Doctor" presumably an asylum would have many doctors.

John decided to throw some friendliness out there to see if he could change the tone of this interview. "What's your name? Other than Doctor, I mean; because this doesn't really look like I imagined the Tardis might."

"Don't get smart with me."

"There was a phone booth in that show too," offered John with a tentative goofball of a smile, still trying for friendly.

While the Doctor started grinding his teeth. John reflected that at this point Jason would usually smack him upside the head but he couldn't stop himself. "You know, Get Smart with Maxwell Smart. It was a TV show. I think Inspector Gadget was based off of it? He was a secret agent with a phone in his shoe. I think." His grin was getting a little forced. The doc had no patience for this sort of banter.

"That's a lot of trivia for someone with amnesia," commented the Doctor threateningly. "What's YOUR name? I want to hear it from You."

Resignedly John answered, "They tell me my name is John Richardson? It does sound familarish. It always has." John knew by now his every spoken word was a potential trap. He supposed he should be scared but this guy just seemed amusing. The Doctor was trying for the 'I am the powerful jailor master and all shall obey my will,' vibe but John honestly thought Sister Agnes was better at being intimidating.

John focused on the good Doc's socks. One sock was navy blue, the other was black. He wondered if the Doctor was married and had gotten dressed in a dim room so as not to wake a wife?

"I don't believe familiar-ish is a word," the Doctor shut down.

John stubbornly determined not to give up on friendly replied, "It should be though. Ish is an underused suffix, although I suppose it could get confusing when mixed with a word indicating belonging, such as a nationality. Would someone born in America with a dad from Scotland and a mom from England be: Scotishish and Englishish?"

The glare the good Doctor was giving him made John question why a man of such little patience would choose a career in psychiatry. The man had obviously never listened to teenagers decide between them what they felt like doing on a lazy Sunday. The fiftieth "I dunno. What do you wanna do?", would have completely exploded the throbbing blood vessel in the man's forehead.

"This situation is kind of uncomfortable. I was just making conversation," John spoke fidgeting a little. "So will deodorant be provided? I didn't get a chance to bring mine with me. A roll a day keeps the man stink at bay." Okay John needed to stop filling the ominous silence with noise.

"You will be medicated. Expect the nurses to check that you've taken your medication."

"Medicated why?" asked John, reluctantly a little more serious.

"To help with the amnesia." The shark like smile developing on Doctor Who's face was worrisome.

"I'm not aware of a medicine that could help. I've been told the fever caused brain damage."

"Psychotherapy has been known to help and we are of course going to treat the Dissociative Identity Disorder underlying the Saint Mary's event. You don't even remember murdering that fellow do you? Depression is common with that disorder. We have dealt with this sort of thing before. These will help." The doctor pushed a small paper cup with two blue tablets in it towards John.

A file lay closed on the desk in front of the doctor.

"What are they?" John asked of the pills poking at them. Given the circumstances he'd been admitted under, they could force him to take pills. He suspected he'd at least need to pretend to take the pills but it would be helpful if he knew what their supposed effect was so he could fake things while maintaining full control of his faculties. Someone had fabricated a diagnosis for him. Had it been this doctor or someone else?

He wanted to believe it was this doctor as he didn't like the man much but he'd heard Arkham was a miserable place for anyone who ended up there. This guy may or may not actually know anything but that John was his new patient.

After a drawn out discussion involving a lot of non-answers John decided to pretend to be convinced he was agreeable to the meds so as not to have them choked down his throat, injected or shoved where the sun don't shine. He palmed one of the pills and bit the other in half making a drama of declaring the medicine nasty while making sure he'd only successfully consumed half of a pill. He needed to know what they were giving him.

"Swallowing them down with water instead of chewing them should be better," the doctor recommended with a smile; clearly pleased that John was co-operating.

It wasn't long before a drowsy sort of fugue settled in.

"You might find those make you a little sleepy at first, until you get used to them," spoke the doctor sounding kindly. "The orderly will take you for lunch. It's better to have a little food in your system. After lunch you'll have some free time in the courtyard with some of the other patients."

John passed out after lunch rather than make other use of his free time. He couldn't remember what he'd eaten for lunch. Cataloguing all of the effects, he suspected the pills were some kind of roofie. More amnesia for the amnesiac was not going to be happening on his watch. If it affected him as strongly as it did at one quarter of the dose then the full dose would have kept him in a permanent haze.

John in the quiet of his room started humming to himself that old Gloria Gaynor song, "I Will Survive," while he made plans for how to not die or end up seriously damaged. It was looking like this wasn't the easiest accomplishment in Arkham. Figuring out how to survive was step one, figuring out what to do next was step two.

John was already not looking forward to day two.

After Jason left Saint Mary's and ran off into the night. Argh.. he'd not really even had a destination planned! Jason found his way to the top of the old lighthouse overlooking Bludhaven harbour. It was where John said he was the night the Saint Mary's Serial killer developed a case of 'oops ya dead', courtesy of a trigger happy occasional psychopath. I'm not a psychopath all the time thought Jason stubbornly.

Who am I angry at? Jason agonized from atop the lighthouse. It was just as well he hadn't found John right away. John might have ended up on the 'oops ya dead' list. Jason, when he'd had a chance to stop and reflect didn't want John or Richard or whoever,... Jason didn't want him dead.

There wasn't much about the world of Batman that didn't fill Jason with rage and misplaced anger but John was just… Okay, as a kid he'd been Robin so he kinda mighta warmed the old man up to the idea of kid vigilantes. Jason still dyed his hair black. It wasn't like John had the copyright to the hair colour or nothin'. And what was with Robin's goofy colours. As a kid he'd thought he looked pretty cool but Robin wasn't cool. It was a kid waiting to get murdered or disappeared or tortured. At the end of the day the bad guys still made a ruin of the world and nothing was accomplished!

It was freezing out tonight. Jason shoved his hands in his pockets angrily. He pulled out a Pokemon card, the stupid Magikarp card John had been doing magic tricks with. The six year olds screamed with glee when John pulled it out of their ear or elbow or used slight-of-hand to stick it somewhere else unexpected. "I've been Magi-fricking-karped!" grumbled Jason annoyed.

John was…

John was his idiot Brother or Frater or whatever and the scum didn't get to disappear him. Jason wouldn't allow it.


End file.
